


Some Rain Must Fall

by red0aktree



Series: Clarphamy Collection [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Murphy complains a lot, No Sex, Thunderstorms, and Bellamy just really likes lightening, and Clarke takes care of him anyway, could be read as platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4440377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red0aktree/pseuds/red0aktree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thunderstorm finds its way over Camp Jaha, and Murphy, Bellamy, and Clarke find themselves huddled in Clarke and Bellamy's quarters. Unlucky for them, Murphy isn't a big fan of the rain. </p><p>Canon Divergence: Murphy didn't leave with Jaha, and Clarke stayed with Bellamy after Mount Weather. </p><p>Includes cuddling, confessions, and Clarke being bossy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Rain Must Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow quote: "Into each life some rain must fall."

It started with the rain. While Camp Jaha slept, the sky dumped buckets on the ground below. It was a cold and frigid rain, the type that spoke of winter to come and brought thunder loud enough to shake the trees.

Bellamy and Clarke slept soundly in spite of it. They laid like parenthesis in their shared bed, not touching but facing one another. They had been sharing a room on the Ark since their return from Mount Weather. It wasn’t out of intimacy or passion, but because of a shared need for comfort and a connection only they had. No one else understood what it took to pull the lever -- together, always together.

Across camp, Murphy laid awake. He wasn’t granted the gift of a room onboard the Ark. Instead he slept in a leaking tent, far from the sturdy shelter. He shivered beneath his thin blankets, willing the rain away. He’d hated it since the first time he felt it, still young and in awe of the Earth. Now he feared it. The rain was too loud, too powerful. He wanted it to stop.

On opposite ends of camp, the three waited out the rain.

 

* * *

 

The following morning, Murphy found himself stomping his way across the muddy field, the Ark clouded in his view by the rain that still poured. His boots were full of water, and squelched as he approached the entrance, ducking inside and searching out Bellamy. Murphy’s hands shook as he pulled his soaked jacket tighter on his shoulders.

Bellamy was where Murphy expected him to be, beside Clarke in their quarters. They were seated at the small table near their bed, talking quietly. Both pairs of eyes turned to him as he entered, and though they had formed a timid friendship, he still shuffled nervously.

“H-hey, Bellamy,” he began, teeth chattering with the cold. “Can I t-talk to you a m-moment?”

Bellamy frowned, concerned for the younger man. He and Murphy had certainly had their rough patches, they all had, but things were different now. These days, Clarke and Bellamy were trying to prove their worth to the other Arkers just as much as Murphy was. They weren’t shunned the way he had been, but they were certainly questioned for their choices. The distrust from the others formed a bond between the three, one that warranted concern when one member entered the room shaking violently and dripping wet.

“What’s up?” Bellamy asked, standing from his seat and approaching Murphy.

“I t-talked to K-kane and he needs to know if we are g-going h-hunting today,” Murphy stuttered, looking composed despite the paleness of his cheeks.

“Murphy, what the hell happened?” Clarke asked, stepping around Bellamy and planting herself directly in front of him.

“Don’t know if you n-noticed, Princess, but it’s kind of w-wet outside.”

“Have you just been sitting in the rain?” Clarke asked, reaching up to feel his forehead and check for fever, but he batted her hands away before she could touch him.

“No,” he answered. “L-look, Bellamy, I n-need an answer.”

“I don’t know, if it’s this wet outside, maybe not.”

“ _Absolutely_ not,” Clarke scowled, turning to face Bellamy. “You can’t go out in this weather.”

“We need food, Clarke.”

“We have enough to last a few days. We’ll wait out the rain,” Clarke said stubbornly. Bellamy huffed.

“I’ll go tell Kane,” Murphy said, and Clarke turned her attention back on him immediately. He had his jacket, tattered and soaked, wrapped around his torso as tightly as it would go. A small puddle had formed at his feet, and his hair was plastered to his forehead, sending rivulets cascading down his cheeks.

“No,” Clarke ordered.

“Yeah, you stay here and warm up. I’ll go let him know,” Bellamy said, already reaching for his coat. It was much thicker than Murphy’s, and certainly more appropriate for the weather.

“I’m f-fine,” Murphy argued, but Bellamy was already out the door.

Murphy frowned as Clarke grabbed his shoulder, directing him toward the table. Clarke and Bellamy’s room was small, barely large enough to contain their bed and a small makeshift table, surrounded by two chairs. She forced him to sit, before rooting through what little clothes Bellamy had stashed in their storage space under their makeshift bed. Murphy pushed his hair away from his face, and rubbed the excess water from his eyes.

“How’d you get so wet?” Clarke asked, holding a worn hoodie up and considering it carefully.

“My tent has a hole in it,” Murphy answered, watching her.

“A hole?”

“Yeah, at the top. I told K-kane about it but he hasn’t done an-anything about it, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Clarke felt a pang of guilt then. It was like back on the Ark. The powerful were taken care of, and the poor left to fend for themselves. Nothing much had changed. She placed the hoodie on the table in front of Murphy, and began looking for bottoms.

“All your stuff has to be soaking,” Clarke said finally.

“Good observation,” Murphy said with a snort.

Clarke shot him a glare before returning to her search. She found a pair of black cotton bottoms that were technically hers, but would likely fit Murphy’s slim frame. She set them on top of the sweatshirt and waited patiently as he inspected the items.

“Are these _girl’s_ pants?” he asked, nose wrinkled.

“They’re just pants, Murphy. They’re not gendered.”

Murphy sneered before standing. “Fine, just don’t look,” he said, grabbing the clothes from the table and preparing to change. Clarke turned around and busied herself with straightening the bedsheets.

“Fuck,” he groused, working at his shoelaces with numb fingers. After the third time losing his grip, he straightened up, catching sight of a concerned looking Clarke. She was staring at him, brows furrowed. “You’re not supposed to be watching.”

“You’re still wearing all your clothes, you dick,” Clarke countered, stepping forward. “And besides, I heard you curse. I was checking to make sure everything was okay.”

Murphy didn’t answer as she knelt in front of him, undoing the knots with lithe fingers. He watched her, suddenly melancholic. He acted like it didn’t phase him, but he liked it when Clarke took care of him. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but there had been the occasional scolding when he didn’t eat, or a steadying hand when he stumbled.

Clarke pushed him to his seat once more, removing his boots and placing them aside to dry. She felt his socks, and upon realizing they were soaked through as well, removed them gently. Murphy curled his numb toes as she stood and motioned for him to as well. He did as commanded, and waited a bit nervously as she helped him with the zipper on his jacket.

“Can you get the rest?” She asked, looking him over carefully. He nodded silently, and waited for her to turn back around before shrugging his jacket from his shoulders and stripping his shirt from his scarred chest.

As Murphy shed his still sopping clothes, battling his jeans, which were plastered to his thin legs, he desperately hoped Clarke wouldn’t turn around. The last person to have seen Murphy even partially unclothed had been the grounders during his _pleasant_ stay in their camp, and that had ended _so_ well. Standing shirtless and shivering in Clarke’s quarters, untangling Bellamy’s hoodie from the pile on the table, he silently begged her not to sneak a look, not to see his scars and pale skin.

But Clarke obeyed, and only turned around once Murphy told her to. She smirked at the sight of him in the, admittedly feminine, pajama bottoms, and the oversized jacket. He was still shaking though, and dreadfully pale.

“Alright, lay down,” she said, motioning for the bed.

“What?” Murphy blanched, looking nervously between her and the pile of blankets she was pulling back.

“You’re still freezing, Murphy. Just lay down and get warm. You’ll feel better.”

“I feel fine,” he said, but it was betrayed by the involuntary shudder that ran down his spine.

Clarke fixed Murphy with a determined look, and he knew when he’d been beat. He shuffled forward, and climbed beneath the offered comforter. Wrapping himself in the soft material, he burrowing beneath the blankets and buried his face in the pillow. There had been two seamstresses on board the Ark when they landed, and they had made good use of the available supplies. Clarke and Bellamy’s bed was far softer than Murphy’s, which barely resembled a bed at all, and warmer too.

Clarke smiled at the soft noise of contentment Murphy made. “Told you you’d feel better.”

“This hoodie smells like Bellamy,” Murphy said instead of a thank you. His face grew immediately hot with the realization of what he’d just said.

“Yeah?” Clarke laughed. “And what exactly does Bellamy smell like?”

Murphy was saved from having to answer by a violently bright light, followed shortly by a clap of thunder loud enough to vibrate through the floor. Clarke watched through the tiny window in awe, but turned her attention back to Murphy when she heard his quiet whimper.

Murphy had burrowed deeper into the blankets at the sound, and was trembling again, this time less from the cold. Clarke sat down on the edge of the bed, near his feet.

“That was a loud one,” Clarke said, at a loss of how to react to Murphy’s vulnerability.

“Yeah,” he croaked from beneath the covers. She let out a sigh and returned her gaze to the window. The rain had blurred the outside image, and all she saw beyond the strong glass was the darkness of the forest.

The thunder had been somewhat distant before, but when it sounded again it followed the lightning almost immediately. It was just as loud, and Murphy shuddered, holding in his whimper this time. Clarke watched the twitch of the blankets where he lay before scooting closer to him.

After a moment's hesitation, Clarke placed a hand on his leg near the bend of his knee, rubbing her thumb in soothing circles.

“Clarke...” Murphy began timidly, before falling silent. He wanted to protest, but was scared it would push Clarke away. Overall, Murphy was hesitant to accept her affection, but as far as he could tell, she only wanted to best for him. If she was willing to give him kindness, he wasn’t dumb enough to turn it away.

“I don’t like the thunder either,” Clarke explained, though it wasn’t entirely true. She kind of liked the sound of rain.

Clarke tore her gaze away from Murphy when the door swung open, Bellamy stomping his way into the room. He shed his dripping jacket, tossing it over the back of one of the chairs. His pants were damp, but not soaking. His hair was another story, and he pushed the dripping locks away from his forehead.

“You see that lightening? Hit a tree just outside the walls. Watched the whole thing,” Bellamy said excitedly.

Clarke felt Murphy tense beneath her hand, and she scowled at Bellamy. He caught her gaze, and seemed to take note of Murphy’s position for the first time.

“Is that Murphy?” Bellamy asked, pointing at the blanketed form.

“Yes,” Clarke answered. “And cool it with the thunderstorm stories.”

“Sorry.” He shrugged. “Just thought it was pretty cool, that’s all. You should have seen it. It was fucking intense.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke scolded, sliding farther along the bed as Bellamy ducked passed her, looking under the bed for different clothes. With her movement she dragged her hand along Murphy’s leg, and up to rest on his thigh. He scooted closer to her under the covers, curling toward their point of contact. She watched his movement, even though there wasn’t a part of him visible outside the blanket.

“What?” Bellamy asked, looking confused. Clarke nodded toward Murphy, and it took a moment before realization dawned on him.

“Oh,” he said, straightening up, a pair of dry utility pants in his hands. “You okay, Murphy?”

“Just peachy,” Murphy’s nasal voice sounded from under the covers, and Clarke gave a soft smile, sliding her hand up to his hip. She resumed tracing circles with her thumb, and Murphy moved closer once more, his knees pressed into her thigh, drawn partially up toward his chest.

“I talked to Kane,” Bellamy explained, tugging off his boots and setting to work on removing his pants. Clarke glanced and Bellamy once, before looking back to Murphy. Clarke had seen Bellamy in various states of undress, as well as completely naked on more than one occasion. She wasn’t particularly interested in watching him change as he pulled on his dry pants. “He said he isn’t sending out any hunting teams until the rain has stopped. Too risky. He also said it’s in our best interest to stay inside as much as possible, and that he is encouraging everyone not sleeping inside to buddy up with someone who is.”

“That’s a good call on his part,” Clarke said, sounding pleased with the decision. Thunder sounded again, and Murphy startled beneath Clarke’s hand.

“I agree,” Bellamy said with a nod, plopping down in the chair near the bed. “So, it’s my plan to not leave this room for the foreseeable future. And I guess that makes you our bunk buddy, Murphy.”

Murphy hummed in agreement. He shuffled about, trying to slide down the bed so Clarke’s hand shifted positions.

“What are you doing, Murphy?” Clarke asked, laughter thick in her voice. Bellamy seemed entertained from where he sat, watching.

Murphy hummed again, this time in discomfort. “Don’t like the hip,” he whined. “Back is better.”

“You want me to rub your back?” Clarke asked, looking to Bellamy for support. He was just as surprised by Murphy’s admission, and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

“It sounds dumb when you say it that way,” Murphy huffed. Clarke opened her mouth the crack a joke, but the room was illuminated in white light once more, and the thunder was once again loud enough for the vibrations to be felt through the Ark. Murphy let out a soft whine, and Clarke swallowed her teasing. Bellamy was silent also. Seeing the way Murphy had reacted to the thunder game him a better understanding the situation at hand, and he felt sympathy for the other boy.

Clarke climbed off the bed, and beneath the covers Murphy squeezed his eyes shut at the absence of warmth. He knew he had asked too much of the strained friendship, had pushed her away.

The pressure on the bedding returned almost immediately, however, accompanied by Clarke’s legs beneath the blankets. She propped herself against the wall, crowding in Murphy’s space. He sat up, removing his face from the blankets to frown at her in confusion.

“Come on then,” Clarke urged. “If we’re going to cuddle, we’re going to do it correctly.”

Bellamy snickered at the bewildered look on Murphy’s face as Clarke grabbed a pillow and placed it on her lap, patting it invitationally. Murphy was frozen, his hair mussed and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Clarke makes a wonderful pillow, Murphy. Don’t question it, just accept.”

Murphy glanced to Bellamy before making up his mind. He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, leaving his face exposed, and flopped forward. Clarke smiled as he laid down haughtily, head resting in her lap. She placed her hand gently between his shoulder blades, and began tracing a repetitive pattern along his spine. Murphy shuddered at the touch, still a bit chilled from the rain, but warming from the contact.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re not being a dick, Murphy,” Bellamy commented, standing and reaching for his boots.

  
“Shut up,” Murphy growled, nuzzling closer into the pillow and letting his eyes slide shut. It had been a long time since he’d trusted someone this way.

“I thought you said you weren’t going back outside?” Clarke asked, eyeing Bellamy’s movements as he tugged on the still wet shoes.

“I’m not. I’m going to the commons to see if Abby or any of them has something we can work on while we’re trapped in here. Raven probably needs bullets filled or something,” Bellamy shrugged, grabbing his coat. “I’ll be right back. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Okay,” Clarke said, watching him shut the door. With Bellamy gone, she looked back at Murphy, his profile gentle as he rested. He peeled one eye open and fixed her with a side eyed glare that he had mastered so well.

“I can feel you watching me,” he said, pulling the blanket back up over his head.

“Sorry,” Clarke laughed. She wanted to say that Bellamy was right, and that Murphy was kind of cute, but she stayed quiet.

Thunder sounded outside once more, and Murphy snaked his arm around her legs, hugging her knees to his chest. She continued to rub his back and asked, “What about it scares you?”

“It’s loud,” he whispered in response, barely audible through the fabric.

“Yeah,” Clarke agreed with a nod.

“I don’t like loud things,” Murphy continued. “My mom used to yell a lot.”

Murphy wasn’t accustomed to affection. He had not once been touched with such kindness in all of his adult life. Long before that, either. The rhythmic comfort of Clarke’s palm along his bony back, the warmth of her touch -- even separated by layers of fabric as it was -- was enough to have Murphy throwing caution to the wind. He had never been one to do things by halves. If he was going to admit weakness in her presence, by God, he was going to admit all his weaknesses.

“Why?” Clarke asked gently. She wasn’t good with emotions the way some of the others were. Jasper or Monty, even Octavia, would have been better suited for this type of conversation. But Murphy had chosen her, and she was willing to try her best.

“She was always angry at me,” Murphy explained. “And she blamed me for a lot of things that I couldn’t have stopped.”

While Clarke didn’t know what had happened between Murphy and his parents, or even what he had done to wind up in lockup, she did know about what they had done to him on the ground. Clarke thought about the rope around his neck, punishment for a death he had nothing to do with. She thought about his banishment, and how she could have -- _should_ have -- stopped it.

“Seems like people tend to do that to you a lot,” Clarke mused, and Murphy stiffened. Clarke froze, hoping she hadn’t offended him. He only shuddered, however, and curled tighter against her.

“Yeah,” he sniffed. “Yeah, they do.”

“I’m so sorry, Murphy,” Clarke said evenly, resuming her motion. She wanted to pull him tightly in her arms, hold him close and make him feel just how badly her heart ached for him.

“It’s okay,” he choked. Clarke couldn’t tell if he was crying or not, but she guessed if he wasn’t, it was in the near future.

The door opened again, this time without Bellamy’s narration on forces of nature. Instead, he entered quietly, and nodded at Clarke, one eyebrow raised as he looked over Murphy. Clarke looked at Bellamy with pleading eyes, shaking her head slowly.

“Everything okay?” Bellamy asked, removing his jacket and boots once more. He was dry this time, and approached the bed, watching Clarke carefully. She shook her head, and Murphy must have felt the movement because he dug his fingers into her knee painfully as he clutched her closer.

“What’s wrong?” Bellamy asked as he walked toward the bed, stopping at Clarke’s side. He cupped Clarke’s face in his hands, freezing as she reached her free arm up to wrap around his waist. Clarke tugged him closer, burying her face in his stomach.

“Nothing,” Clarke said, voice muffled.

“Okay,” Bellamy said, dragging out the second syllable. He stroked Clarke’s hair until she pulled away at the crack of thunder, turning her attention back to Murphy. Bellamy stared at his curled form before stepping away from Clarke and walking around to the other side of the bed.

“Well, I asked around out there, and no one seems to have anything for us to do,” Bellamy explained. Clarke didn’t look away from the blankets. “And so I figure, there isn’t any reason why I shouldn’t just go back to bed.”

Bellamy sat on the other side of the bed, and Murphy pulled away from Clarke a bit, but didn’t uncover his face.

“What are you doing?” Murphy asked gruffly, his voice scratchy with emotion and exhaustion.

“Joining this invasion of personal space thing you guys seem to have going on,” Bellamy said, tugging at the blankets. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Murphy said, relishing in the warmth gained as Bellamy slid in behind him. He draped an arm over Murphy’s slim waist and buried his face in the second pillow, closing his eyes. Murphy squeezed his own eyes shut tighter than before, forcing his breathing to mellow.

“Now I’m left out,” Clarke huffed, unwrapping Murphy’s arms from her legs and tapping him in a command to sit up. He did so, propping himself up on his elbow, careful not to disturb Bellamy. The blanket slipped off his head, revealing his flushed cheeks and wet eyes. Clarke gave Murphy a warm smile and slid down the bed, removing the pillow from her lap and placing it behind her head. She got comfortable before tugging him down beside her. Murphy watched her carefully, his usually cold stare warmed by affection.

Clarke folded Murphy gently against her, letting him pillow his cheek on her chest and wrap an arm around her waist. Bellamy’s hand rested on her hip, stretched protectively across Murphy. Clarke pressed a single kiss into Murphy’s hair, before closing her own eyes.

“Are you guys done moving yet?” Bellamy groaned, tucking in closer to Murphy.

“Oh shut up, Bell,” Clarke huffed, wrapping her arms around Murphy’s shoulders.

“Gladly,” Bellamy yawned, and the trio fell silent.

Outside, the thunder didn’t bother Murphy as much. Not when he was surrounded by the only people at camp that he trusted, the only two who came close to understanding what it was like on the outside. He was warm, and safe with them. That was more than he’d been in years. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr!](http://red-0ak-tree.tumblr.com/)


End file.
